P for Pansy
by Dramione84
Summary: A prequel to M for Murder, inspired by the Hurts track, Rolling Stone. One night Ron finds a girl being beaten in the street. Recognising her as someone from his childhood, he takes her back to his Parisian apartment and an unlikely friendship is forged. A tale of compassion, finding yourself and learning to live again.
1. Part 1

**May 2001**

.

Slinging his apron to the side, Ron called out his goodbyes to the cook and his assistant as he headed out the back door of Fondation Café and into the alley. Grabbing the bike he left wedged between the bins, he walked it down to the street before slinging his leg over and began to leisurely peddle down Rue Dupetit-Thouars towards his apartment building. He had taken out a short-term lease having arrived in Paris a month ago, hoping to start over following his breakup with Hermione.

He slowed his pace, slinging his leg over the saddle to jog up the steps into the apartment complex, leaving his bike secured to the rail outside his apartment. Unlocking the door, he slung his keys on the side table along with his wand that had been tucked into his waistband before headed for his ensuite shower. It was Friday night and he planned on heading out to his usual haunt, 4 Éléments nightclub.

Stepping out of the shower, he padded across the room in all his glory, air drying. Pulling the dresser drawer out, he grabbed a Ralph Lauren polo shirt and a pair of Diesel jeans that Hermione had given him for his last birthday, along with the Hugo Boss boxers that she'd liked him in. He smiled at the memory, before slipping them on, followed by his jeans. He pulled the polo over his head as he made his way into the lounge. Grabbing his Vans from next to the door, he hurriedly pulled them on before sliding his wallet and wand into his back pocket, and snatched up his keys. It was only 7pm but if he got to the club before half past, all his drinks would be half price until 10pm.

The club itself was quite small; an underground bar filled with bright colours and the repetitive hum that Ron found intoxicating. He stood by the bar, watching the sweaty bodies writhe to the music. It comforted him in an odd sort of way, to drown out his thoughts with the constant beat that resounded heavily in his mind.

He never stayed past 10pm knowing that was when the bar started trying to scam the tourists. Close to the darkest parts of the Red Light District, he knew that the girls outside would be turning tricks, and then, men would be looking to scam and start fights. Stepping out onto the street, he stuffed his hands in his pockets before turning in the direction of his apartment. Suddenly behind him, he heard a woman scream. He stopped and turned around, seeing the dark-haired woman get shoved roughly to the ground as the two men standing over her shouted something about payment being due. Frowning, Ron paused, torn between not wanting to get into it with two Muggles and wanting to help the girl. Something about her was familiar but he couldn't quite place it. A crowd of people burst out of the club, dancing their way across the pavement and blocking his view as he stood, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

The woman screamed again as one of her assailants struck her across the face. The bald man went to do it again but found his wrist caught in the palm of a redheaded man who then pulled back his right arm, before smacking his fist straight into the bald man's jaw. The woman scrambled to her feet, only to fall into one of the shopfronts before landing in a heap on the floor as the three men fought, punching and kicking. The sound of sirens filled the street and suddenly the two men who had been attacking the girl moments before fled the street, ducking down a side alley. Ron turned to the woman who was now crying, head in her hands.

"Are you okay?" he asked her, gently removing her hands from her face. Recognition followed as his eyes widened.

"Merlin, Pansy?"


	2. Part 2

**A/N Trigger Warnings: Drug abuse/addiction; Prostitution; Implied Abuse**

Please do not read on if these are sensitive issues.

* * *

"Get off me," she hissed, shoving and slapping his hands away as he tried awkwardly to help her to her feet. He took a moment to take her appearance in. She looked shockingly thin, her flimsy top and mini-skirt hanging off her gaunt frame. She wore thigh-high stockings with black stilettos, and he noticed that one of the stocking had a ladder and a heel of one of her stilettos had been broken, twisting at an odd angle. Mascara ran down her pale cheeks and her rouge lipstick was smudged off pouting lips. Pushing him roughly, she struggled to stand, whimpering as she realised her ankle had twisted in the earlier foray. Starting to tumble, she found herself suddenly caught by Ron's arms wrapping around her waist.

Helping her along, he ignored the catcalls and suggestive comments of the passersby as they made their way along the street. He wanted desperately to pull her into an alley so he could apparate her to his apartment but that wasn't possible in this part of the city, with side streets and alleyways populated with girls on the game. Struggling along, the normal five minute stroll took almost half an hour. Finally they made it to the building and he set her against the wall to fiddle with his keys as he watched her out of the corner of his eye. She stood trembling, dark eyes darting about and anxiety marring her features.

Finally in his apartment, he tossed his keys on the side table and led her towards his room.

"40 euros for me to suck you off, Weasley. 100 euros for a shag, but no kissing," she calmly stated, pulling a small compact out of her clutch.

Ron frowned, confused.

Pansy fussed at her reflection, licking her thumb and trying frantically to wipe the remnants of the mascara from her cheeks. Realising he was watching her, her eyes darted up to meet his.

"What?" she huffed.

"I don't want that from you, Pansy." Ron told her quietly, reaching for her.

She snatched her wrist away from his grasp, glaring up at him.

"Then what do you want?"

"To help you," he stated.

Pansy let out a wry laugh. "There is no helping me, not that I can understand why you of all people would want to help me" she spat.

"Because you are one of us," he told her gently.

Pansy glared at him. "I was never one of you. You with your precious Golden Trio and me, the daughter of a crazed psychopath and his lunatic wife, who followed another psychopath into oblivion," she ranted, pacing like a caged wild animal.

Ron stepped forward, grasping her gently by her shoulders. "You had no choice, same as us, but you WERE one of us, a child schooled at Hogwarts."

Pansy tore away from him. "I don't need your pity, Weasel," she hissed, "I need to get out of here, I owe money and I need to work to pay it off."

Ron blocked her exit. "Pansy, take a bath, have something to eat and some sleep. Let me help you."

Pansy laughed bitterly, "I already told you, there is no helping me. I am trash."

"Not to me you are not, now go take a bath."

She searched his face for any hint of ulterior motive. He must have one, all men did. Unable to find anything but sincerity in his eyes, she hesitated, trying to decide what to do. She did need a decent night's sleep. She had worked every night this last week but it hadn't been enough to pay off the mounting debts she had. Could he help her? She doubted. But, she realised, her body was wracked with exhaustion and all the tourists would be with the high class girls by now. Wincing she hobbled over to the bathroom, adrenaline subsiding as the throbbing pain in her ankle started to build up again. With a final glare, she shut the door. Ron let out a sigh as the lock clicked, sitting down on the edge of his bed.

"Fuck."

.

"What's this?" she asked, screwing her nose up at the plate in front of her on the kitchen island. Fidgeting in her seat like a toddler in a fancy restaurant, she poked and prodded the food with her fork.

"Leftovers from the cafe," Ron grinned.

Pansy looked up, eyes wide. "You own a cafe?"

Ron chuckled, "No, I work as a kitchen porter in one."

Pansy scoffed at the notion, a snide remark on the tip of her tongue but something made her hold back.

Ron looked at her pointedly. "I know what your thinking."

Pansy rolled her eyes, "Actually, I was wondering where Granger is."

The colour drained from Ron's face before a blush worked its way up his neck and over his cheeks. It was rather interesting to watch someone change colour like a potion, Pansy thought, thinking back to potions classes in the dungeons. A memory it seemed from a life long forgotten.

Ron placed his fork on the counter, slipped out of his seat and made his way over to the fridge, pulling out a beer. With a sigh he shut the fridge door.

"Hermione is in London, we split up last month," he told her with a grimace.

Another snide remark formed but she couldn't bring herself to utter it.

 _Merlin what's wrong with me,_ she thought.

"I'm sorry to hear that," she mumbled, looking down at her plate once more.

.

She stood biting her nails as Ron turned down the duvet of his bed for her, watching her intently.

"Relax, I am going to sleep out there," he nodded in the direction of the lounge.

Pansy nodded, still looking agitated.

"Would you like a drink and some dreamless sleep?" he asked her.

Pansy's eyes snapped to him. "No dreamless sleep," she shuddered, eyes betraying a fear he had yet to understand. "But yes to the drink."

Ron headed out to the kitchenette.

Pansy watched him go before grabbing her clutch, trembling fingers pulling at the zip. She listened to him run the tap as she pulled out the clear plastic bag and a business card that a trick had handed her the day before with his hotel room written on the back. She hurriedly poured a little of the white powder onto the card, dropping the bag onto the nightstand before lifting the card to her right nostril. Pressing the forefinger of her left hand to her left nostril, she breathed in quickly through the right, the little pile of powder disappearing up her nose. Relaxing a little from her hit, she chucked the card down on the nightstand, closing her eyes momentarily with a small sigh.

Ron's voice pulled her from her reverie

"What was that?"

* * *

 **A/N:** Ladder in her stockings: These are what my American friend informs me are runners ;)

Thanks once again to my lovely beta, xxDustNight88 who also did the cover for the story which you can see on my tumblr ac here: http*:/dramione84*.tumblr*.*com/ (take out the *)


	3. Part 3

Starring up at him with bloodshot eyes, she blinked furiously.

"Come on, Pans," he whispered, exasperated. She had been staying with him a week now and this was the fourth time he had come home from work and found her, trembling with glazed-over bloodshot eyes, her pale skin clammy as she lay on the bathroom floor.

Pulling her into his lap as he slumped against the bathroom wall, he stroked her damp hair and wondered, not for the first time, how he was going to help her get clean and deal with her demons.

" _It's cocaine," she huffed, averting her eyes. "I have a cocaine habit. I am not proud of it, but there we go." Tears formed in her eyes and she brushed them away. "What would father say if he could see me now? A broken mess, turning tricks for Muggles, and addicted to their poison," she laughed mirthlessly. "No one cares that he's a psychopathic, alcoholic, abusive bastard, or that he literally drove my mother insane." She couldn't stop the words from spilling out of her mouth like a confession. She looked up at Ron, unshed tears pooling in her eyes. "I swear, no matter what, I am NEVER going back there. I would rather die here than go back. They can send whoever they want, send Aurors if they please, but they can't make me go. They will never take me alive."_

" _Who?" Ron asked softly, confused._

" _The Ministry. They will want someone to answer for my father's crimes eventually. Six months in Azkaban and then they were forced to release him because he had literally lost the plot. He never leaves his study, just drinks and raves." Pansy wasn't sure why she was telling him all this, but she had to tell someone, and right now she had no one else._

Withdrawal was clearly taking it's toll on her. Her anxiety had peaked on the second day and he had come home from work to find her huddled in the darkened bathroom, knees drawn into her chest as she sat in the empty tub. On her first night, before her bath, he'd given her an old, oversized Gryffindor Quidditch shirt, which she had scoffed at the predictability of. She reluctantly accepted it with a huff, along with a pair of jogging bottoms he wore when everything else was in the laundry. The clothes swamped her but kept her warm, especially when she was shivering. The third day he'd come home to find her lying naked on the bathroom floor, clearly forgetting she was a witch and that he had left his wand on the nightstand for her. He grabbed the shirt and pulled it over her head, averting his eyes, then cast cooling charms on her and the apartment.

Coaxing her up, he helped her into bed and lay on top of the covers, stroking her hair, waiting for her to fall asleep. Almost nodding off himself, it was quite late before her whimpering ceased and he heard the light snoring next to him. Carefully, he extracted his arm from underneath her head where she had rolled over onto it, before slipping off the bed making sure not to jolt her as the mattress adjusted to the change. He quietly padded over to the dresser and lifted her clutch off it before slipping into the lounge.

He sat on the couch inspecting the contents of her clutch that were now strewn across the coffee table; two business cards, a silver compact, various pieces of women's make-up, a single 10 euro note, four condoms (so at least she was being safe with Muggles) and a worn address book. Running his fingers through his hair, he sighed, uncertain whether he could take this final step of invading her privacy. He really didn't know what else to do, however. Ginny wasn't speaking to him, and even if she was, Harry was on assignment in the Middle East with The Ferret of all people, so no one could contact him. The Ferret himself was likewise incommunicado. He had burnt his bridges with Hermione, and besides, what would he say to her? "Hi Hermione, sorry I left you a 'Dear John' on our kitchen table and then left for Paris. By the way, I bumped into Pansy the other day. I know she was a bitch in Hogwarts, but she looked a bit rough so I invited her home with me. It turns out she has a cocaine habit and is on the run from The Ministry! Don't suppose you could be a darling and pop over and give me a hand cleaning her up and making this nasty business with The Ministry go away? There's a girl!"

He shook his head at the absurdity of it.

Gulping, he realised he had already come this far and cracked the spine of the address book. Was he surprised that it listed very few names? At that moment, yes; he supposed he might be, but when he thought back later he would be less surprised that it contained only four names: Narcissa and Draco Malfoy, Theo Nott, and Blaise Zabini.

Taking the quill off his desk, he scribbled the note before padding over to the window. Opening it a little, the soft sounds of the city came drifting in as he whistled for his owl. It was Saturday evening and the bars were already filling up, the hum of chatter and music being drowned out by the occasional siren blaring down the street. A moment later, the bird appeared and Ron handed him a treat, tying the letter to the bird's foot. He gave it an affectionate pat on the head before watching it depart into the evening sky.

Settling into the couch with a beer, he turned on the tv, the volume set low to avoid waking Pansy, flicking from channel to channel. He hadn't even felt tired; however, the next thing he knew he was being woken by the sound of the owl hooting, signalling his return.

"That was quick," he murmured to himself, as he retrieved the note. Scanning the contents, he crumpled it up and tossed it in the bin, before hurriedly pulling on his Vans. Grabbing his keys and wand, he rushed out the door and exited the building, turning into a side alley that ran between his apartment building and the next. With a pop he apparated to the French Ministry, making his way to the desk to talk to the night clerk. She smiled before directing him to the arrivals lounge of the international floo network. He swung the door open just as the tall, dark figure turned, flashing him a smile.

"Hallo, Weasley; to what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?"


	4. Part 4

**June 2001**

 **.**

Pouring the soup into a bowl, he looked up, flashing Pansy a smile.

"You look better today," he told her, watching as she ran her fingers through her hair, nervously.

"I should have brought Binny with me," he murmured, throwing her a sideways smirk, making her elicit a little giggle.

"I still can not get over the two of you here, practically living like Muggles," his voice tinged with mock distain.

"Shut up, Zabini," she chided, giving his arm a playful slap before taking the bowl and spoon that he held out for her. Settling down on what had become her seat at the island, she blew on the spoonful she held halfway between the bowl and her lips in an effort to cool it as Blaise watched her intently.

Glancing up she narrowed her eyes. "What?"

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Nothing, bella. How long before his shift finishes?" he asked.

Pansy frowned at the clock. "Half an hour, thank Merlin," she confirmed, mumbling the second part.

Blaise gave her a look of mock offence. "I am hurt, bella, that you would think my company is not stimulating enough."

Pansy nearly choked on her soup at his obvious double entendre.

"That was a long time ago," she hissed, glaring at him.

Blaise quirked an eyebrow at her. "It wasn't such a long time ago, and back then you would never have prefered to spend time with Weasley over me," he stated, his tone carrying no trace of malice.

Pansy pushed her bowl away, her appetite suddenly leaving her. "It was practically a lifetime ago, Blaise. Everything is fucked up now." She furiously rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands, groaning at her inability to make them stop.

Blaise pushed himself away from the counter he had been leaning against, enveloping her in his arms. "Hey, shush, baby steps remember. And I was only teasing you about Weasley. I think he has been good to you. _For_ you." He planted a kiss on her forehead as she pulled away, smiling. He couldn't help but notice the light blush that stained her cheeks.

.

Bursting through the door, laden down with bags of food, Ron appeared to be struggling. Leaping off the couch where she'd been sitting crossed legged and browsing a magazine while Blaise read a novel, she rushed to help him.

"What's all this?" she asked, frowning as she poked her nose into one of the bags.

"Left overs. Marcel said we should just take it all as a fresh delivery is coming tomorrow. Don't tell mum but there is a quiche in there that is tons better than hers," he grinned shyly, depositing his load on the counter before brushing his fringe out of his eyes. Pansy reached up and touched his ginger locks, running her fingertips lightly through them.

"You're fringe needs to be trimmed," she murmured, his gaze falling on hers for a heart-stopping moment. "I could do it for you if you like, I used to cut the boy's hair all the time." she stated, moving away and opening the fridge. She took out three bottles of water and handed one to Ron before moving back to the lounge to hand one to Blaise. He looked at her sideways as she sat down, but she carefully avoided his scrutiny.

Ron unscrewed the cap on his bottle, nodding to Blaise. "I hardly think you cut his hair."

Pansy picked up a throw cushion and proceeded to do just that, laughing as it connected with his arm, causing him to soak his shirt. "I meant Draco and Theo," she cried.

Ron glared before striding into his room to grab another shirt.

"What's going on?" Blaise asked her quietly, taking her magazine when she feigned an intense amount of interest in an article about cellulite-whatever the hell that was.

"Nothing," she murmured, snatching the magazine back.

.

Filling his briefcase, Blaise glanced over and saw her fidgeting in her seat. He reached across and removed her hand from her mouth. "Don't do that to your nails," he chastised, gently causing her to huff.

"How long will you be gone?" she asked, fiddling with her hair, then the hem of her shirt, looking down.

"I have some business to attend to, but I plan on coming back next week. You will be fine, Ron is looking after you." He smiled, kissing her cheek.

She glanced over his shoulder to see Ron coming out of his bedroom wearing jogging bottoms and a loose t-shirt, before grabbing the juice out of the fridge and putting it to his lips.

"Not out of the carton!" she admonished and for a second he was transported to another place, another woman telling him the same thing. He grabbed a glass from the cupboard, pouring some juice before returning the carton to the fridge, slamming the door.

Pansy glowered, before smiling brightly at Blaise as he said goodbye to them both.

.

The light from the tv flickered across the darkened room as his eyes fluttered open, his neck creaking a little as he adjusted his position. He tried to sit up; however, slumped across his chest was Pansy. Clearly they'd fallen asleep watching the film. Gently, he lifted her up and carried her into the bedroom, placing her in the bed and covering her with the duvet. She stirred a little as he planted a kiss to her forehead. He started to back away, only for her arm to shoot out, her fingers wrapping around his wrist.

"Stay," she murmured, her eyes not opening.

He hesitated for a moment, before climbing onto the other side of the bed, pulling her into him. She rolled over, her head on his chest, arm coming across his stomach.

He wasn't entirely sure this was a good idea.

.


	5. Part 5

Sunlight streamed through the window, warming his exposed skin. His eyes fluttered open, his brain registering after a delay, the delicate hand that lay across his chest. Each morning it took him a few moments to register the fact that he was in bed with a young witch. Rolling over, he screwed up his nose at the image. The hair was wrong, the form of the body pressed into the mattress was wrong. It wasn't _her_...and then he would remember why not and reality would come crashing down on him, causing his chest to tighten. It had been his choice to walk away, for both their sakes. But that still didn't make waking up alone any easier, and definitely didn't make waking up with Pansy any better, however noble his reasons for doing so might be. His brain and heart fought a nightly war over whether or not he should comfort her this way. In the end his compassionate side overruled any nagging thoughts that maybe this was not such a good idea; that maybe she was too vulnerable. With a sigh, he slipped out of bed, and pulling on his jogging bottoms he padded out to the kitchenette to make them both some breakfast.

.

Rolling onto her back, she stared at the ceiling, conflicting thoughts and emotions coursing through her body like fire. Every morning was the same. She would feel him wake and roll over. She would hear the sharp intake of breath as he remembered who was lying beside him. She would feel his hand reach out to touch her hair, very briefly. Then she would feel the mattress sag and groan as he got out of bed, sighing audibly. She knew. Merlin, she knew asking him to stay in the bed with her each night to comfort her, was wrong. It was playing with fire. It was tickling the sleeping dragon. But she couldn't help herself. Ron was kind and sweet and always looking for ways to make her feel…..well….whatever it was it wasn't something she found on her knees in some alleyway, or on her back in some ramshackle Parisian bedsit. The feelings that engulfed her were nothing like the chemically induced euphoria that came from a few lines of coke either. This was….different. Scary different. Unlike her childhood feelings for Draco which had matured into a sibling-like relationship. Unlike anything she had felt before.

" _Don't confuse his help with love," Blaise whispered, planting a kiss against her temple._

" _I'm not." She scowled as he gave her a knowing look before squeezing her hand._

" _Ciao bella, I will see you soon."_

Frowning at the memory, and the ceiling, she thought about taking a shower but made no move to get out of bed. Crinkling her nose, she wondered absentmindedly what the smell was drifting in from the kitchenette. Sliding out of bed, she made her way out to where she found Ron flipping pancakes. She smiled at the sight before lifting herself up onto the counter.

"Morning" he greeted with a grin as he slid the pancake onto the waiting plate and proceeded to pour batter into the pan.

"Morning yourself, they smell divine" she sighed.

"They taste even better" he winked, picking up the fork next to the plate and cutting her off a piece. He lifted the fork to her lips, and for a moment found himself mesmerised as she parted them, taking the morsel in such a delicate fashion it made his cock twitch.

"Oh my!" she moaned, snapping Ron out of his reverie, causing him to blush. "These are...I have no words!"

"Pansy speechless? Let's alert the presses!" he mocked playfully, as she grabbed the tea towel he had wedged in his waistband and smacked him with it "Ow, stop it or no more of my mum's secret recipe pancakes!" He cried, grabbing her wrist with his left hand, his right brushing up against her left thigh as he placed it on the counter for balance and reached for the tea towel. He paused, mere centimeters from her lips, suddenly acutely aware of two sensations: the feel of her naked thigh against his wrist and the feel of his cock bulging against the fabric of his clothing. She suddenly became very aware of the fact that under her Quidditch shirt, under _his_ Quidditch shirt, she was naked. Very naked. Embarrassment giving her cheeks a faint stain, she slipped off the counter, aware of the feel of his body as she brushed against it and slipped away. Ron closed his eyes as she mumbled something about a shower, before banging his head softly against the cupboard door, groaning.

.

"What do you want to do today then?" Ron asked her around a mouthful of pancake, looking up and then looking away.

Pansy sucked on her strawberry thoughtfully.

"I think I am ready to try going out. I need some clothes and I really ought to see about replacing my wand."

Ron frowned "I meant to ask you about that...what happened to your wand?"

Pansy dropped her strawberry on her plate, looking down and fidgeting with the hem on her shirt. _His_ shirt. "My Father snapped it in two" she mumbled. Taking a deep breath she looked up at Ron, who was watching her intently. "He said I wasn't worthy of my magic. I was not worthy of his name. I was no better than a...a…Mudblood." She started to cry. Ron flinched at the use of the slur, but placed a comforting arm around her shoulders.

"We can get you a new one" he said into her hair, planting a kiss. Vanilla. She smelt of vanilla.

Pansy nodded. "Blaise gave me some money. I will need to pay him back. He said not to, but I need to. I just need to get access back to my vault. He is going to contact Theo and see if he can help." She didn't realise she was babbling until Ron squeezed her shoulders again.

"Shush" he whispered as she started to hyperventilate. "We will sort it, I promise."

.

She had always been a prideful girl, she mused, as she ran her fingers along the simple fabrics in the shop. But there were two kinds of pride she had felt: Pride that went along with her natural narcissistic personality and the pride that stopped her from going to Blaise and Theo before. Over the last 2 years she had become less narcissistic; struggling for money to pay off her dealer, Fabrice, had left her with very little with which to keep her appearance looking fresh. Consequently she had no idea what was currently in vogue, and her edgy personality had softened to the extent that she was happy to just have something other than his shirt and jogging bottoms to wear. She was also unwilling to just spend the money Blaise had given her without any level of guilt. So instead of heading to Avenue des Champs-Elysées, she found herself in the boutiques of Quartier des Abbesses in the heart of Montmartre. She smiled at the assistant as she handed her the bundle of clothes: everything from simple lace underwear to a couple of smart skirts, some casual trousers and some chic tops. It wasn't a lot but it was more than she had previously. Stepping out of the shop, she brought her sunglasses down off her head, taking Ron's arm as he pushed himself away from the wall he had been leaning against. Arm in arm, they headed towards Rue des Trois Frères, a street that seemed like any other to the average muggle, but held a secret for those who knew where to look. Slipping unnoticed down the side alley beside the bar, Ron tapped the bricks in the correct order, allowing them to pass into the Wizarding Quarter. Heading straight for the wandmakers, Pansy felt her magic tingle for the first time in a long time, tears pricking in her eyes as the emotion threatened to overwhelm her. Ron gave her hand a little squeeze as she headed into the shop.


	6. Part 6

"Give it another go," Ron encouraged her gently.

She screwed up her face, pouting her lips. "It's too hard!"

Mustering up all the patience he had, recalling the difficulties Neville had during the early DA meetings, he took her hand and gently adjusted her hold on the 10 ¾ Ash wand, his right hand gently altering her stance.

Sucking in a breath, she muttered the incantation once more, "Expecto patronum." Her eyes grew wide as she watched as the whispery silver fox cub darted around the room, chasing it's tale before disappearing.

"Oh Merlin," Pansy whispered, tears in her eyes as she clasped her hand to her chest.

"Cunning, stealthy, persistent, sly, graceful; definitely you, Pansy," a voice behind them intoned.

Spinning round, Pansy threw her arms around the man smiling down on her.

"Blaise!" she cried. "I cannot believe I was able to do that!" she excitedly told him.

"Well done, mia bella," he told her warmly. "What happy thought did you choose?" he asked, watching her carefully.

Pansy smiled, blushing. "That summer when we were children, and we went to the south of France with Draco and his family. Being with you, Draco and Theo, that was when I was happiest."

Blaise smiled at her revelation, pulling her close to him, pressing a kiss atop her head.

"Speaking of Theo, I have some news for you," he told her growing serious. Blaise sat down as Pansy and Ron moved the coffee table and armchairs back to where they normally were, having been moved earlier to give more space for Pansy to try out her new wand.

Settling into the couch beside Blaise, she watched as he pulled out his notes from his briefcase.

"Theo has done some preliminary research on this. Your father's accounts at Gringotts were frozen after the war. I know that your father was neutral, in other words, he never took the Dark Mark. However, it appears he was certainly involved in sinister activity linked to Voldemort, which is why he was charged. As you know he only served six months of his ten year sentence before he was deemed to be insane by Ministry approved Healers, and thus he was transferred to the Parkinson Manor under house arrest with a court appointed Healer to treat him once a week."

Blaise opened the file he had taken from his lap and handed it to Pansy. "The Ministry has control of the accounts. On your 25th birthday you will inherit everything regardless of whether your father is still alive because he has been deemed insane. It has previously been implied that the Ministry would seek recourse for the remainder of your father's sentence; however, Theo has said there is no basis for this in law. He is petitioning the court to ensure that your self-imposed exile can cease. In other words, Pansy, he is petitioning the court to allow you to come home. Further, he is petitioning the court to ensure that you inherit in full, with no reparations to be made from you on your father's behalf."

Pansy was overwhelmed. This was a lot for her friends to do on her behalf. For so long she had struggled alone, too prideful to seek help, certain that she was destined for a life that sickened her. Overcome with emotion, she flung herself at Blaise, sobbing uncontrollably.

.

With Pansy indulging in a nice long bath, Ron took the bottle of Ogden's finest from the counter and grabbed two glasses. Placing one in front of Blaise, he poured the amber liquid into the glass. Blaise nodded his thanks as Ron settled down on the bar stool opposite him, tumbling his own glass contemplatively.

"She seems more settled now," Blaise observed, carefully scrutinising Ron's reaction.

He nodded. "She is. She doesn't have so many panic attacks, and she's sleeping better."

Blaise continued to watch him intently.

"I am not sure if I am helping much to be honest," Ron sighed. "I get that she is vulnerable right now. I swear I do, and I would never hurt her. I care about her, but I am not sure that giving in to her request to sleep beside her is helpful."

Ron gulped the rest of his whiskey down.

Neither man said a word while Blaise sipped his whiskey thoughtfully. "Pansy has always been one to do what Pansy wants to do, she has always been one to do things her own way. She almost never accepts help from Draco, Theo, or me. It's always been her way. She has accepted help from you readily."

Ron scoffed, remembering how she tried to push him away the night he found her.

"She did," Blaise insisted. "She might have resisted a little, because Pansy has always had her pride, but she accepted help from you; help she couldn't bring herself to ask me or Theo or Draco for," he informed him.

"I don't even think she knows Draco is in the Middle East with Harry," Ron mused.

"She doesn't. We haven't kept in touch as much as we should have. Maybe if we had…." he trailed off, wondering if things might have been different. He understood to an extent, no stranger himself to self-imposed exile.

"I just don't want her to feel like I am doing this for the wrong reasons," Ron sighed.

Blaise nodded, finishing his whiskey. He picked up her wand, twirling it in his fingers. "Do you know much about wandlore?" he asked. Ron shook his head.

"Ash: Chooses wizards and witches who are intelligent, quick witted, enthusiastic, adaptable and have a deep spiritual sense. Wizards and witches who are often vulnerable, nervous, irritable, hypersensitive and are prone to dependency. Her original wand was made of ivy which chooses wizards and witches who are multi-talented, colourful, sociable, good natured, artistic, resilient and determined. Those wizards and witches who are often weak willed yet optimistic, suffer from self-doubt and are obsessive. Consider what that means: Pansy has changed. She was always intelligent and quick witted, and Draco will certainly testify to her irritability," he chuckled knowingly, "but she is prone to self-doubt and can be obsessive. Combine that with her tendency towards dependency? Just be mindful. But that said, the fact that we are having this conversation, the fact that you are voicing your concerns to me, someone who considers her to be like a sister? That speaks volumes for you, Ron. You care about her, that is plain to see. Don't force it, just go with your gut instinct. Be her friend, be there for her, how she needs you to be."

.


	7. Part 7

**July 2001**

Humming to herself, she jogged up the steps to the apartment building before rummaging around in her chic black leather satchel, searching for the keys. Suddenly she felt rough hands grab at her arms, the calloused fingers digging into her flesh, bruising her. Opening her mouth to scream, she felt the scabrous hand clamp down, causing her to panic. Before she could kick out, she was pulled backwards down the steps and dragged into the side alley.

"Hello Princess," the man in the sharp, tailored suit greeted her as he pushed himself off the wall, flicking his cigar away. "Have you missed me?" He flashed her a charming smile.

Pansy struggled as much as the vice like grip of the bald man who held her in place would allow. She whimpered as his boss stepped towards her, feeling nauseated as he reached out and brushed his knuckles along the side of her face.

"I have missed you, my darling girl," he sneered.

Pansy struggled again. "Hold her still Etienne," he instructed the bald man.

Etienne removed his hand from her mouth and snatched up a chunk of her hair, pulling her head back as his other hand snaked around her torso, clamping her tight to his grotesque frame.

"Fuck you, Fabrice " Pansy spat.

Fabrice lifted his right hand and brought it down on her left cheek with a tremendous crack. Her lip began to bleed, the force of the impact causing her to feel dizzy as bile rose from the pit of her stomach.

"You owe me money you little whore," Fabric towered above her, sneering in her face, all previous charm extinguished. "I don't like it when my girls do not pay their way or try to hide from me. You have done both." He stepped back, examining his fingernails carefully, "However, we could come to some arrangement. All will be forgiven my darling," he told her, faux-charm dripping from his words.

"You have until Friday and then we will be back. You better have my money and be ready to come home by then," he informed her, his face contorted with malice before flickering over to that charm that made her skin crawl. He stepped forward and kissed her cheeks. "Au revoir."

He snapped his fingers at Etienne as he stepped past him, signalling for the bald man to shove Pansy roughly towards the trash that was deposited along the alleyway.

.

Entering the apartment after he arrived home from work, he was perplexed to find it in darkness. He furrowed his brow as he looked around, listening. His ears pricked at the sound of whimpering coming from the bedroom. Stepping into the room, he glanced around, trying to locate Pansy. Confused, he crouched down, his eyes meeting hers as he located her, snug under the writing desk in the corner.

"Hey," he whispered, reaching out to her. She pulled away like a frightened animal, her eyes wide like a deer caught between the headlights.

"Whatcha doing down there?" he asked gently. Staring at him, as though she was looking right through him, she sat there trembling. Ron's heart was in his mouth at the sight of her sheer panic and terror. Standing up, he made his way over to the bed and grabbed the duvet, bringing it over to her. Crouching back down on the floor, he held it open and watched as she scrambled into it, relishing in the comfort as he brought his arms and the duvet around her. She nestled into his chest, silent tears streaking down her cheeks as he brought her onto his lap. It was a technique his mother had employed with him as a child when he had hidden, traumatised by a spider scurrying by. Molly would crouch down and try to coax him out but, shell shocked, he would remain hidden. Then she would appear with a blanket and he would come scrambling out and into his mother's arms. Remembering how she would stroke his hair and whisper soothing words, he did the same for Pansy as he gently rocked her.

.

His neck ached and his legs had gone numb some time before she took a deep breath and let out a sigh.

"What happened?" he asked her softly, stroking her hair.

"I was on my way back from Le Carreau du Temple. Etienne and Fabrice were waiting for me," she croaked, trying not to cry. "I have until Friday," she stated, trembling.

"It's okay, we will sort it."

"How? I owe him thousands of Euros " she cried.

Ron pressed a kiss to her temple. "I promise you, we will sort this."

.

Certain she was finally asleep, he slipped out of the bed and padded out to the lounge. Scribbling the quick note, he opened the window and whistled for his owl.  
"Take this to Blaise," he instructed, giving the owl an affectionate pat on the head before watching it glide off in the Parisian night sky.

.

The hooting of the owl roused him from his sleep, causing him to bolt out of the bed. "Hush you, before you wake her," he admonished the bird before handing it a treat and taking the letter.

 _Have contact in Paris who may be of assistance._

 _Has experience of dealing with people who need a little 'muggle-style persuasion'._

 _(Seven years experience to be precise)_

 _Will make enquiries._

 _BZ_

Ron screwed up the parchment before tossing it in the bin. Glancing at his watch, he glared at the bird for waking him so early before padding back to bed. Lying on his back, he closed his eyes, willing sleep to return. The last thing he was aware of before sleep pulled him under was the arm that snaked across his abdomen and the contented sigh of Pansy as she snuggled into him.

.

Stirring sometime later, he was acutely aware of the typical male predicament that aroused in the morning; doubly so of the hand that lay far too close to the issue for comfort. Frozen with fear, the feeling of her body so close to his intensifying the issue, he felt her take the matter into her own hand, quite literally. With his eyes screwed shut, he prayed to all the powers that this was not happening. At the same time, he tried to conjure a way to extract himself from the situation without disturbing her.

Next to him, Pansy stirred, a moan leaving her mouth. Her fingers flexed experimentally before stilling, eyes snapping open. With a sharp intake of breath, Pansy ripped away her hand as if it had been burnt. Blushing furiously, she mumbled, "Shit. Fuck. Sorry," before scrambling away in a rush to get to the bathroom. Tilting his head, Ron watched as she flashed by, clad in _his_ t-shirt and boxers before the door slammed shut. Fucking hell, she looked hot in his clothes, and it was totally not helping dissipate his sudden flare of arousal.

* * *

 **A/N:** Thanks once again to xxDustNight88 who helped me especially with the 2nd half of the chapter to get my thoughts down in a meaninful way. I hope everyone is enjoying the buildup between Pansy and Ron :)


	8. Part 8

She tapped her fingers impatiently on the little wrought iron table outside the cafe. "This is ridiculous," she hissed, glaring at Ron. "We cannot sit here waiting all day"

"Ah, still as patient as I remember," a voice behind her drawled sarcastically.

Pansy spun around in her seat, her eyes as wide as saucers at the sound of the familiar voice.

"Greg!" she cried, arms outstretched as he leaned down to kiss her on both cheeks.

He gave Ron a curt nod, "Weasley."

Taking Pansy's hand, he pulled her up off her chair "Well let's take a look at you then." His eyes narrowed as he scrutinised her carefully. Ron felt a small stab of jealousy as Goyle's gaze travelled over her body.

Goyle hummed his approval causing Pansy to blush, smacking him playfully on the arm as he returned her to her seat. He grabbed a chair from a nearby table, dragging it along the cobbled pavement before spinning it around & sitting astride it, his arms crossing the back.

"So, how can I be of service? Blaise was a little vague about the details" he grinned.

Sensing her apprehension, Ron took Pansy's hand and gave it a little squeeze.

"I'm in trouble, Greg" she whispered.

.

Ron pressed a kiss to her temple. "My break is over now. Are you going to be ok?"

Pansy nodded, loosening her grip from his shirt as he stood up. She stole a glance at Goyle who had an eyebrow raised and the beginnings of a smirk on his lips. Watching as Ron headed back into the cafe, she heard him start to hum the tune to "Weasley is Our King"

"Shut it," she hissed, before grinning. He squeezed her hand when she started laughing. Even after all this time, her laughter was like music to his ears.

.

Finishing her coffee, she waved goodbye to Maurice before taking the elbow Goyle offered her, casually strolling in the direction of the flat she shared with Ron. It was strange to think of it as _their_ flat; but then it was strange, she supposed, to be in this situation at all.

"Galleon for your thoughts?" Goyle asked her, watching her out of the corner of his eye.

"I was just trying to figure out how I got into this mess," she sighed.

Goyle frowned. "I guess the war changed all of us in many ways, some of us for the better, some of us….well I guess we all have demons to exorcise"

Pansy stopped in her tracks, looking up at Goyle, suddenly seeing him as a man and not the boy who trailed along behind Draco Malfoy as his goon. He seemed wiser, his eyes full of a maturity that humbled her.

He smiled at the look on her face. "What? Shocked that something so deep could come from moi?" he asked, feigning hurt.

She screwed up her features, "No."

Goyle chuckled. "It's ok, I've come a long way since Hogwarts Pans." He lowered his voice, checking for anyone listening nearby, before leaning into her, "I even read now."

.

Closing the fridge door, she chucked the bottle of water at him, laughing as it caught him unawares, right on his chest. "Feet off the sofa," she admonished. "You're not in the Slytherin Common Room now!" She winked, watching as he swung his legs round, groaning.

"Ron hates it when people put their feet on the sofa," she explained, settling down next to him.

Goyle took a sip of his water, thoughtfully. "So what is going on with you two, then? he asked. "Seems like you have a rather cosy set up here."

Pansy felt the colour drain from her face. "Is that what you think? That I'm just using him for a place to stay?" Her voice cracked, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes.

Goyle looked at her with shock "Merlin, no Pans, that's not at all what I meant. Fuck," he said, pulling her into him as she quietly sobbed.

"You know me, I am shit with words. Feelings, too," he explained as he stroked her shoulder.

"He helped me...he's taken care of me. I bet he thinks I am just using him too," she cried, her tears soaking Goyle's shirt.

"Shush," he whispered, "I am sure he doesn't think that. He seems to care about you a lot Pans," he continued.

.

Tossing his keys on the side table, he frowned at Goyle. "Feet off the sofa! Where's Pansy?"

Goyle huffed, swung his legs round, then ran his hand through his hair, "Um...I kinda accidentally upset her a little while ago. I tried to make it right but, err….she's gone for a lie down" he explained, sheepishly, pointing towards the bedroom.

"Well done," Ron sarcastically drawled, glaring at Goyle, before striding towards the bedroom. He pushed the door open gently, stepping inside, before closing it with a soft click.

Pansy felt the mattress adjust to Ron's weight as he lay down beside her, stroking her arm. She didn't turn around to face him; her silent tears continued to dampen the pillow under her cheek.

"Hey," he whispered, "What's up?"

Silence.

"Goyle put his foot in his mouth, did he?" he pressed.

Pansy made a noise that Ron took to mean 'yes'.

"Wanna tell me about it?" he asked, kissing her shoulder through her olive green jersey top. The fabric felt rough against his soft lips.

"Do you think I am using you?" she rasped, her voice raw from crying for so long.

Ron frowned, lifting his head up a little. "No! Merlin, Pans, why would you think that?" he gasped, his expression deepening into a scowl. "Is that what that fucker Goyle said? You wait till…" He made to get off the bed, but she grasped at his shirt, pulling him back down.

"He didn't mean to imply it, I was just feeling a little sensitive," she explained, screwing her eyes shut as she let out a deep breath. When she opened them, Ron was staring down at her, his blue eyes shining. Funny, she thought, how he had the same eye colour as Draco, but the depth and warmth of the emotion displayed in them was greater than the steely grey gaze she remembered of Draco's eyes.

"I am here for you because I care about you," he whispered, staring down into her dark eyes. He always thought her eyes were hard when they were younger, but now they reminded him of onyx, warmed with hints of umber and red; vastly different from the hazel eyes with flecks of gold that haunted his dreams occasionally. Pansy felt his breath on her face, causing her to tremble a little in anticipation. She couldn't help the little flutter that started in her chest, humming down to her abdomen. His lips were tantitisalingly close to hers, causing her to hold her breath. Ron closed his eyes and the gap, the pressure light, experimentally flicking his tongue over her bottom lip, causing her to elicit a little moan. Closing her eyes, she responded, her grip on his shirt lessening. She opened her mouth slightly and he responded cautiously, not wanting to startle her. Her fingers found their way into his hair, slowly teasing the locks, encouraging him to deepen the kiss. He responded, gently, almost reverently, causing her to marvel at the kindness of the kiss. It was tender, sweet, sensual. Like nothing she had experienced before. Pure bliss.

Gently he pulled away, and she found herself mourning the loss. Pressing a kiss to her forehead, he gave her an impish smile before brushing his nose against hers, causing her to giggle. "Come on you," he grinned, pulling her up out of the bed. "No more talk like that, we are friends. Friends help each other." he told her sincerely, before heading out to the lounge.

She felt her chest constrict as she repeated the word in her head

"Friends"

.


	9. Part 9

Pansy paced the lounge, anxiously biting her fingernails. It was Friday. Goyle had been gone three hours and, with every passing minute, she grew more and more terrified. She considered packing and getting the hell out of there before Fabrice and Etienne showed up again.

She jumped at the sound of pounding on the door, startled by the sudden noise. Grabbing her wand, she made her way over to the door, peeking out the little spy hole, relief flooding her senses when she recognised the man who stood outside. Pulling the door open, she was nearly knocked sideways as Goyle shoved his way roughly into the flat, slamming the door behind himself.

"What the fuck?" Pansy cried, horrified to see his right hand covered in blood.

"It's not mine" Goyle gruffed, making his way to the bathroom to wash his hand. "Gimme the bleach," he called out to her as he stripped his black shirt and jeans from his body.

Pansy frowned, opening the cupboard under the sink and checking the names written on the various bottles she found under there, rooting around until she finally located the one he required. Confused, she took it to him.

"Here," she thrust the bottle at him. "Care to explain?" she asked nervously.

Goyle was chucking his clothes in the small waste paper basket he had found in the bedroom. He grabbed his wand from where he had left it on the edge of the bath and cast incendio on the items in the bin. Pansy watched shell shocked as Goyle padded over to the sink, unscrewing the cap from the bottle, pouring a little of the cloudy liquid over his hands. The smell was vile and made Pansy's eyes water.

Goyle caught her expression in the mirror, reading her thoughts. "Scourgify is only any good to stop Aurors arresting and charging you. Muggle authorities are able to use DNA to track people," he explained. Pansy didn't look reassured by this information.

"The bleach breaks down the DNA," he explained. He scratched his head trying to think of a way to explain DNA to Pansy. "Where's Granger when you need her?" he huffed, a little shocked to be reminiscing over the insufferable little know it all. Pansy chuckled, "No idea, Ron is still evasive when it comes to the subject of our favourite Mudblood."

Goyles eyes narrowed, "I don't suppose Weasley will take too kindly to hearing you say that."

Pansy shuddered, "I guess not," she admitted. "I don't believe that shit any more, Greg," she paused, thinking over her father's words. "But it's hard to think differently after thinking a certain way for so long. Had my beloved father not disowned me in the way he did, I think I would possibly still feel the way I used to. It's weird, I kind of respect her a little more now," she finished.

.

Taking out a few handfuls of ice from the bag in the freezer, she wrapped them in a tea towel and placed the homemade ice-pack on Goyle's hand. He winced as he felt the cold in his bones, the frigid drip of the slowly melting ice seeping through the towel.

"So are you going to tell me…."

He cut her off. "What happened to Fabrice and his little sidekick, Etienne? No, Pans. It's better if you don't know."

"So what's with all the burning clothes?" she nodded towards the bathroom, referring to the charred remains that lay inside the waste paper basket.

"Muggles. Once they find him, they will gather evidence and want to match that evidence. Best to ensure there isn't any."

Pansy shuddered at his nonchalant explanation as he threw her a sidelong glance.

"It's what I do, Pans. Blaise contacted me for a reason. What? Did you think inviting him up for tea and a chat would work?" He smirked at her naivete, watching as she fingered the wand in her pocket. As if reading her mind, he took her hand in his. "Obliviation spells are traceable; besides I think we have learnt the hard way that to go that route would be a slippery slope," he told her softly.

.

Kissing her softly on the forehead, he promised to stay in touch more. "You should come meet Vivienne. You'd like her" he told her. They had met during the Triwizard tournament and had stayed in touch. After the war, Goyle had come to visit her and hadn't left.

Pansy nodded. "I'd like that, Greg." He kissed both her cheeks, nodded curtly to Ron before turning & jogging down the stairs of the apartment building and out into the Parisian sunshine.

Pansy gently shut the door, coming over to the sofa where Ron sat.

"I didn't realise how much I had missed him," she sighed, pulling her leg up under her.

Ron slipped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her into him, gently pressing a kiss atop her head. She closed her eyes and inhaled the familiar scent that was uniquely _Ron_ and for a moment was transported back to seventh year NEWT potions: _Fresh mint; sandalwood; licorice_. Snuggling into him, she relaxed as he rubbed circles across her back. Her nose pressed against his neck, she nuzzled him gently, feeling him relax back into the sofa. Softly, she grazed her lips over his neck, the little hum of appreciation that fell from his mouth emboldening her. Her left hand had found its way to the other side of his neck, fingertips threading into the hair at the nape of his neck. Feeling his fingers splaying across her own neck, his thumb pressing against her chin, she paused, allowing him to tilt her face up towards his. Gently, he captured her lips with his own, his soft lips caressing hers. She felt his tongue dart out, sliding across her cupid's bow in a deliciously languid fashion, causing her to part her mouth with a sigh. Rewarding her, his tongue massaged her own as she relished the feeling. Her eyes remained lidded as he pulled back gently, stroking her cheek with his thumb. Pressing a chaste kiss to her forehead, he smiled at her, before tugging her back into his side. Beside him, she let out a contented sigh as she marvelled at how well she fitted into him.

.


	10. Part 10

**August 2001**

.

She giggled with laughter as strong hands wrapped around her, lifting her up off the ground and spinning her around, causing the skirt of her dress to fan out.

"Blaise!" she shrieked, "Put me down!"

"Never, mia bella!" he roared, spinning her around again to her delight as her child-like shrieks filled the apartment.

"I have missed you, cara," he told her, planting a kiss on her cheek.

Pansy rolled her eyes "You only saw me last month!"

"Yes, and it was a month too long. We should be making up for lost time," he stated, nodding. "We shouldn't go that long again."

Pansy squeezed his hand in agreement, before standing up on tiptoes to kiss his cheek, giving him a watery smile.

"Where is Ronald?" he asked, glancing around the flat.

"The lease on the apartment runs out at the end of the week, so he's gone to give notice that he doesn't want to renew."

"Oh?" Blaise quirked an eyebrow, questioningly.

"Don't do that," Pansy admonished "You look scarily like Draco when you do that!"

Blaise chuckled "So what are you going to do? Will you take up my offer to come and stay at the Villa?"

Chewing her bottom lip, she considered the offer, for what must have been the hundredth time, before shaking her head. "No. I think we have both had enough of Europe," she murmured.

"Both?" Blaise inquired, trying and failing to sound casual.

"Yes, both. He and Granger basically spent the last two years bumming around Europe. It didn't end well. Obviously..." she murmured, fiddling with the hem of _his_ shirt.

"Just as well for you" Blaise nodded at the quidditch shirt that she had taken to wearing when Ron wasn't at home, despite her new wardrobe.

"Shut it," she smirked.

.

Blaise handed the delivery boy a rather large tip before kicking the door shut with his heel. Dropping the takeaway bags down on the coffee table, he laughed at Pansy's feeble attempt to wrap the dragon figurine in the bubble wrap. She might have found it easier if she had known the counter charm to make the damn thing remain still. Smelling the food, Ron came out of the bedroom holding various quidditch items.

"I'm starving" he stated, dropping the gear on the floor and settling down on the sofa next to Pansy. He frowned at her as she tried, in vain, to get the dragon to sit still.

"Garrrgh!" she huffed, giving up. Ron took the creature gently from her hand, muttering the counter charm before placing it back in her open palm. "Present from Charlie when I graduated," he explained. Pansy looked down at the figurine. It was a hungarian horntail, just like Potter had faced off against during the TriWizard Tournament.

.

"How can you have so many clothes?" she groaned "Seriously, you have more than me. I mean, alright, I know that's not hard right now because I have bugger all, but what I mean to say is that YOU have more clothes than me, a GIRL," she rambled, blushing, as they packed the clothes into boxes.

.

Furious tapping at the window caused the three to look up sharply from their tasks. Frowning, Ron made his way over to the window, opening it enough for the Ministry owl to drop it's package before gliding away into the evening air.

"It's for you mate" he informed Blaise, handing him the rather official looking envelope.

With a small amount of trepidation, Blaise took the envelope and opened it. The tension in the room was palpable and Pansy could have sworn the other two could hear her heart beating. Blaise's narrow gaze scanned the contents, before handing it to Pansy.

"It's actually for you," he told her, "it's from Theo."

With a deep breath, Pansy took the letter, reading through the contents. "He did it," she whispered, shocked. "He actually did it," she stated a little more audibly. "He actually fucking did it!" she cried, scrambling to her feet, waving the paperwork at Ron for him to take. It was only then that she realised she was crying.

.

Having finished the bottle of champagne that Ron had run out to buy to celebrate, they had moved on to Firewhiskey. Pansy clutched her sides, laughing at Ron's joke, while Blaise looked on, presuming that you really needed to spend more time with Ron than he had to derive that amount of mirth from his humour. Tears rolled down her cheeks, not for the first time that evening, but at least they were happy tears, he mused.

"So where to now?" Blaise asked, glancing from Pansy to Ron. Pansy chewed her lip thoughtfully.

"Not Europe" Ron stated "But apart from that I haven't any idea."

Pansy's face lit up "Oh! Wait! I know!" she scrambled to her feet from where she had been sat on the floor. Reaching the other side of the room, she started moving the boxes they had packed earlier.

"What on earth are you doing?" Blaise asked, bemused.

"Hey! Don't start UNpacking" Ron complained, reaching across the sofa for a cushion & chucking it at Pansy, hitting her square on the bum.

"OI!" she shrieked, glaring at him. "I am looking for something I found earlier!" She turned her attention back to the box, leaning into it, all but disappearing. Rooting around, she chucked several guidebooks and maps, both muggle and wizard, out of the box, before pulling herself upright. Ron blanched a little at the sight of the little pile of books. He had forgotten he had them.

Gathering the little pile to her, Pansy made her way over to the coffee table, depositing the books next to the almost empty bottle of Ogden's finest. Settling down beside Ron, she grabbed the first one off the pile, catching the look on his face and hearing him gulp as he recognised the title.

"Oh yea, not Europe," she murmured, quickly stashing the book to one side, realising her inadvertent faux pas. Although Ron had never actually explained in detail the demise of his relationship with Granger, she had surmised enough to now realise that the book was one of hers, and that his insistence that they travel to somewhere beyond Europe was his way of putting her and their shared history behind him. It suited her as she felt she needed a clean slate, and what better way than to leave Europe behind for a while? While she was grateful to Theo, for giving her the option to return to Britain, it was not an option she wished to take for now.

Grabbing the next book from the pile, she smiled broadly realising it was an atlas.

"Ooooh!" she cried, leaping from the sofa, and heading into the bedroom. The two men sat staring, confused, as they heard what sounded like her rooting around the drawer of his desk. Moments later she returned, holding something aloft as though it were a prize. As if to punctuate this she cried, "Ta da!"

She held it out to Ron, who stared at it a moment before frowning, and looking up at Pansy.

"It's a pin," he stated, as though he was sure he was missing something.

Pansy rolled her eyes, "Yes, Ronald, it's a pin. And you are going to place it in the atlas and wherever it hits, that is where we will go."

Drunk or not, this seemed like as good a plan as any, Ron decided; grabbing the book he opened it and, taking the pin, he shut his eyes, stabbing it down into the page.

"Where did it land then, Weasley?" Blaise asked, intrigued.

Ron looked down, pulling a face that read "fair enough" before twisting the book around for Pansy to see.

Smiling at the result, she nodded to Ron before turning to Blaise, the grin lighting up her face. She really did look the best she had in years, he thought.

"Morocco."

FIN

.

* * *

 **A/N**

As always, thank you to my beautiful friends xxDustNight88 and Torigingerfox for their brilliant support while I have been writing this series, especially xxDustNight88 who has beta'd P for Pansy and created the awesome cover that I is on my tumblr. You girls are amazing and I love you because without you two this series would still be in my head! Thanks also to my Mum who beta'd the last few chapters while my beta was on holiday so you lovely readers didn't have to wait for her to come home. I am overwhelmed by the amount of people who have read the stories, esp M for Murder! and those of you who took the time to review. I think it would be nice to come back and write a couple of one shots and of course Wizarding Law and Order needs an update or two but I think I am done with the multi-chapter fics for this series. That makes me feel a little sad because I have loved every minute of writing these characters :)

Much love D84 x


	11. Author Note regarding the series

**A/N:**

This story forms part of a series, the map of which is below. I hope you enjoy the series, thanks for taking the time to read.

D84 x

* * *

 **M for Murder (Working Series Title)**

Currently a WIP series. The best way to read the series is to start with M for Murder, then read Afternoon Tea where in comes in sequence between chapters 5 and 6, then read the first two of the three prequel stories, R for Ronald and D for Draco, as a flashback after chapter 13, and the Welcome to Venice where it comes in sequence between chapters 23 and 24. The Venetian Affaire works as a follow up with Wizarding Law and Order: Major Case Squad running parallel. Touring Milan is a one shot tie in that comes between chapters 4 and 5. This is followed up by The Brotherhood and then the one shot The Slytherin Carousal. There is also a one shot entitled Vows in Venice which can either be read as a flashback after The Slytherin Carousal or as a prequel to The Brotherhood. The final prequel P for Pansy is best read as a flashback after The Brotherhood. Although each story can be read on its own, to understand the characters and the way they are portrayed you should read the whole series.

Prequel 1: R for Ronald  
A 3 part drabbled ficlet that charts the course of Hermione's relationship with Ron after the war. Written as a series of snippets of conversations Rated M mostly for the language

Prequel 2: D for Draco  
Drabble charting Draco's cases, first as Harry's partner and then as the lead Hit Wizard. Prequel of sorts to M for Murder

Prequel 3: P for Pansy  
WIP: A prequel to M for Murder, inspired by the Hurts track, Rolling Stone. One night Ron finds a girl being beaten in the street. Recognising her as someone from his childhood, he takes her back to his Parisian apartment and an unlikely friendship is forged. A tale of compassion, finding yourself and learning to live again.

Main Fic: M for Murder ***Nominated for Best Crime/Mystery Fic and Best Draco Characterization #IsItHotInHere16***  
A unique murder case causes Head Auror Harry Potter to pair Hit Wizard Draco Malfoy with top auror Hermione Granger and she is NOT happy about it.

Tie in 1: Afternoon Tea at Malfoy Manor  
Theo Nott accepts an invitation for Afternoon Tea with Narcissa Malfoy, meanwhile a week into their first assignment for Head Auror, Harry Potter, things are not going smoothly for Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger.

Tie in 2: Welcome to Venice  
A 3 part drabbled ficlet that charts an afternoon encounter between a frustrated Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger who are in the middle of their first assignment for Head Auror, Harry Potter.

Follow up Fic 1: The Venetian Affaire  
Auror Granger and Hit Wizard Malfoy head up a joint task force between Italy and England to investigate Dark Wizards coming in from the Middle East. Chasing shadows are far more arduous than chasing a murderer however, and Hermione and Draco soon learn they need more than each other to scratch the itch that the frustration brings (HG/DM/BZ). WARNING: CONTAINS SMUT AND TRIAD ACTION.

Parallel Fic: Wizarding Law and Order: Major Case Squad  
For those of you who are interested in more of the mystery and less of the smut: In the fight against the Dark Arts the Wizarding community is represented by two separate by equally important groups. The Department of Magical Law Enforcement who investigate crimes and the wizengamont who prosecute the offenders. The worst criminal offenders are pursued by the detectives of the Auror Department: Major Case Squad, headed up by Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger. Runs Parallel to The Venetian Affaire

Tie in fic 1: Touring Milan  
Business takes Blaise and Theo to Milan, providing Blaise with an opportunity to track down the young witch he fell for last summer. Romance blossoms but will Blaise win the heart of the girl who stole his? Written as a tie in ficlet for The Venetian Affaire although can be read as a standalone fic. Features Blaise Zabini, Theo Nott and two Original Characters, Bianca and Juliette.

Tie in fic 2/Prequel to The Brotherhood: Vows in Venice  
The invitations have been sent, the venue is ready, are our favourite couple ready for their special day?

Follow up Fic 2 (Sequel): The Brotherhood ***Nominated for Best Hermione Characterization #IsItHotInHere16***  
A sinister collective of Dark Wizards are making their way from Persia into Europe in search of an artifact, smuggled out of the Ottoman Empire, that may hold the key to immortality. Will Hit Wizard, Draco Malfoy, and Auror Hermione Granger be able to stop their infiltration before it's too late? Sequel to M for Murder

Follow up Fic 3 (Sequel to The Brotherhood): The Slytherin Carousal  
A rowdy gathering leads to an eye-opening piece of information...that leads to an even bigger argument. With emotions running high, can Hermione and Draco comes to their senses? Can be read as a sequel to The Brotherhood or as a standalone one shot


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